


Sensible

by jenna_thorn



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-09-13
Updated: 2010-09-13
Packaged: 2017-10-11 18:41:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/115686
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jenna_thorn/pseuds/jenna_thorn





	Sensible

I watch the excitement from a nice safe distance away. Dust clogs my contacts and from the electrical arcing scattering sparks across the area, it's a fair bet that one of the hi-tech guys had toys in there, the Riddler maybe. I'd heard he was gearing up for something. Not so much now with the left side of his warehouse around his ears. So I find a nice quiet high rise, too low rent to be of any real interest to me but pricey enough to merit a view of the city, to watch the flashing lights circle in. Dazzling like diamonds they are, pooling and circling. Well, diamonds and rubies, I guess, red and white glittering off each other. It's fascinating and I am, dazzled and fascinated. At least that's my story and I'm sticking to it, because I jump like anything when Batman's gauntlet came over the ledge, followed by Batman's arm, those ridiculous ears, and most of his body. He just hangs there for a moment, then throws his hips up and over and rolls to the roof proper.

He lies there. I admire the view. The other view, too.

I'm pretty sure he hasn't seen me and I'm thinking seriously about keeping it that way, but something about the way he flopped there just… You can't see him breathe, not with the suit on, and he's got half the people in this town convinced he doesn't breathe anyway, but I've seen him off balance; I know better.

"Hey Bats, you okay?" I call, more to let him know I'm there than anything else.

"Not really."

Whoa, he's not supposed to admit to being hurt. Jesus, I've seen him walk away from burning buildings and not wipe the smoke from his jaw. "You, uh, you want a hand?"

He draws up and does the cape thing, that thing where he just becomes a shadow. I hate the cape thing. Especially paired with the silent treatment. You know what, fuck you, too, buddy. I'm halfway into the jump when he yanks me back and I have to go to one knee to keep from looking graceless. Yeah, I meant to do that. "Where have you been?" he growls.

I grin. "Corner market. Ran out of milk." I sidle up to him and run my claws across the armor. This game I can play.

Until my hand comes away wet. I'm thinking that's not WD 40. "Bats, you need help."

"So I've been told." He looks away, down, like he's thinking of grappling off the building.

"Oh no, you don't." I try a leg sweep and I'm not sure which of us is more surprised when it works. He doesn't jump over it, doesn't dodge, nothing, just goes down like an armored bag of meat. Which is, I'm suddenly realizing, what he is right now. "Let's get you down."

"That was my plan."

"No, your plan was jumping off the building and swinging through the air. I'm thinking we could take the elevator."

His face twists. It takes me a second to realize that he's trying not to smile. I pick the lock to the roof access gate and sweep him before me with a bow. Yeah, I cross my legs and keep my knees straight while I'm doing so. What? I've got a reputation to maintain.

"You'll lose your key to the Joker's treehouse. Your compatriots won't approve."

"If I thought you actually believed that, buddy, I'd leave you on this roof." The call button is filthy. I look around, concrete floors, mop bucket, breaker panel, the smell of diesel and that weird orange hand cleaner. He looms. I identify the alarm system master control box. Aging system, at least six years old. Not even a challenge. He looms more. The bell finally dings.

We stand in opposite corners in the elevator. I jump up to pop one corner of the access panel for quicker access just in case and then stand patiently waiting for the elevator to grind down a mere thirty floor drop. Rappelling is faster and easier and you get a better view. On the other hand, going down the outside of a building, you don't get Highway to Hell re-mastered into muzak, so it's a wash, I figure. I carefully don't notice Bats is leaning against the wall, but I can't help but see that he leaves a dark smear on the woven grass wallpaper. Cleaning staff is going to have a bitch of a time dealing with that.

"So who's your dry cleaner?"

"What?"

"Never mind. You got the car waiting for you?"

"It will be by the time we get there."

I nod and say, "Could be worse, could be stairs." I realize that I'm fingering the quick release grapple on my belt.

He goes back to looming. I'm wondering where I left my ability to flirt. The lit up numbers slowly count us down to L and when the door opens, I'm out before I realize he's not. I stop the doors from closing and lay my hand on his chest.

"Bats?"

He doesn't answer.

There is no way I can carry him and I wouldn't know where to go. I'm betting there's no MedicAlert bracelet under his gauntlet. I've got one foot holding the door open and am fumbling for a catch or anything on his cape. If I can get the costume off, maybe I can dump him at the ER. Jesus, that would be a morning-after conversation, "Um, I seem to have left my vigilante crime fighting costume at your place. Could we meet for coffee?" Bet I could get him to pay. I've got my thumbnail under the edge of the mask, wondering if I'm going to have to peel him like an orange, when his eyes open and he twitches. Doesn't fall, doesn't move, just shifts. I tug his cape and he follows me through the lobby. The doorman in a security guard outfit is dozing behind a panel of CCTV monitors. Yeah. I love Gotham. We hit the door together and he heads left around the building. I cut him off and don't have to speed up to do so. This is bad. "The car's not going to do you any good. You can't drive."

He surprises me by saying "I know." It's waiting for him like some robotic pet, growling a well tuned v-12 warning at me. "Auto-drive." He can sit on the edge as the top opens for him, but I see him shake as he tries to crawl in. I can't lift him, but I can lift half of him, so I shove him back against the top of the seat and lever both legs into the opening. I'm so focused on untangling the damn cape that I don't notice he's breathing in my ear. I turn and now he's breathing on my lips. His eyes are half closed, sleepy, a parody of sated post coital drowse. Now I know what he looks like when he's vulnerable. I rip the cape free and try to ease him down into the seat, but he just takes me with him, half in, half out, sprawled out ungainly as a mutt. He flinches and I turn to face him, but we are too close, me half in his lap and I just can't. I wiggle away, grab the webbing and try to figure out how to attach it. He catches my hand and just holds it for a second, presses his thumb into the palm of my hand.

"That's about as tucked in as you are going to get." I say, "But you owe me a good night kiss."

Don't think I won't collect.


End file.
